


Overthinking It

by ThinkingCAPSLOCK



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Cannibalism, Gen, Gore, Implied Incest, Sharing a Body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-20
Updated: 2012-11-20
Packaged: 2017-11-19 04:03:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/568867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThinkingCAPSLOCK/pseuds/ThinkingCAPSLOCK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are pretty sure you are getting hungry. Not that you deserve a meal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overthinking It

**Author's Note:**

> this was written before we knew it was hussie doing the thoughts/at the terminal, and we had fleeting ideas of calliope being in control somehow/yelling at him.

You've been sitting at the terminal for some time. It's baffling. You've smashed the keyboard but it doesn't seem to be doing anything besides recording your thoughts. Which are getting increasingly annoying. You didn't think this was something you did. In fact, you are pretty sure you have never had an intelligent thought in your whole life.

Wait, was that you? It was totally you.

Right, well, whatever you were thinking, you know you're getting hungry. And you sure as hell didn't remember to grab any stardust before you left. If there's one thing you're awful at, it's planning ahead. And also video games.

Fuck, none of this is solving your problem. You have been sitting in front of these damn flashing screens and thinking to yourself. You have no sense of the passing of time. It's been at least a while though. You're bored. You're tired as fuck. And you want a god damn snack.

You eye the clown. It's probably a bad idea. But it's something to eat. You wander your way over, looking at the purple shit. You feel awful for - no, no you totally don't. You're only getting hungrier.

You bend down and bite off an arm. Cautiously. It tastes really fucking weird, but it seems you don't have a choice here. You munch on it, clothing and all. It's crunchy and kind of nasty. You consider spitting it out, making a comical pose, and using large obscenities. But you are far too much of a dumb useless child to do that. Yes, that's totally right. You look up at the sky again. 

You are completely and utterly baffled at what to do. You take another bite.

Maybe you should try breaking something. 

-

Jack is giving you the stink eye. He looks angry and disheveled but you really don't give a shit. Instead you lay out the fucking deal with the game, and how you are totally a fucking moron. Well, you didn't exactly mean to say that part, it just kind of came out. 

He doesn't stop giving you the stink eye so you punch him in the face. You think that's a horrible plan, but you have never had a plan that wasn't horrible, so this isn't surprising. You feel awful for punching him. You stare at your hands and get on your knees and beg for an apology.

Well, no you don't, but you heavily consider it and you're not sure why. Jack's finally on his feet so you can start explaining your goals. You're not really sure how you're going to work out this game but if you can get this far before hand, you can figure something out. 

But you won't, because you're awful at games, and always will be.

Jack's staring at you again and you realize you've been flailing your arms around as you try and get your thoughts in order. A lot of people stare at you. All the time! Because you suck. Yes, you suck. Wait. No, no you love yourself. You love yourself more than anyone else and cherubs can't even love! What is love? You don't know, but that is how you feel about yourself!

You jump out the window, landing on the streets of Derse with a large thud. A resident steps out and you grab his arm. He looks scared. You drive your hand through his gut and bring it up. 

You have a plan. You have to keep it in mind. You pause, waiting, but you are sure you are feeling better. You've cleared your head. It's quite pleasant. You should probably head back up and see Jack now, but you're feeling kind of hungry. 

-

You much on another clown arm as you look out over the land. It's a shame trolls only have two arms - they're your favourite part. The horns are nasty. So is the face. And you don't touch the gut because you can't stop-

Damn, is that another one? You pull out your gun and fire off another round. And another.

And maybe a few more shots just in case. But you are grinning. You at least get two more arms to much on as you sit around and try and. Well. Do something.

It's pretty damn boring around here. You wish you hadn't been such a fuck about this game. Now there is nothing to do, you're alone half the time, and also bad at everything. Yes, you are. Completely incapable of anything except laying down and mourning your own lack of foresight. Grass grows where your salty tears feed the ground.

You've been trying to find something to do and you think you may have found a lead. It's really damn distracting to have your thoughts only quiet down for a bit when you off a clown or eat a Dersite. You think you're great, killing people, stabbing them, and eating them, because you're the best at everything. Except doing your job!

Maybe you'd kill everyone to see if you could get that damn thought out of your head. You begin to grin, and find yourself smacking your own face.

You have no fucking clue why you did that.


End file.
